Dead City Radio
by suncityblues
Summary: "They never could understand each other."  Takes place during Izaya & Shizuo's high school days, Shizuo / Izaya.
1. part one

**Title**: Dead City Radio  
**Characters**: Shizuo/Izaya ; mentions of Simon & Dennis  
**Rating**: work safe  
**Summary**: Takes place during Izaya & Shizuo's high school days. "They never could understand each other."

Titled after the Bill Burroughs spoken word album.

* * *

There is a hum to the city they both feel.

A vibration that runs all through their bodies winding in with their veins along with the blood and the oxygen which always leads them back to each other. They are entwined, yin and yang and salt and pepper and all these things that are completely different but also the same.

Maybe that's why they never could understand each other.

Like the street singers and leaflet distributors, they have become a part of the scenery in Ikebukuro. They are static, in many ways. Unmoving but shifting, changing, against their will. Uncontrollable.

Izaya loathes nothing more than that because that is ordinary, average. To be ordinary means nothing because ordinary is nothing. Ordinary is getting married and having kids and working in an office complex until suddenly you're old and the only thing left to do is die. Being the same person as everyone else. Being indescribable, unmemorable. Ordinary is to be a parasite; to take and take until you could not take anymore. Ordinary is resigning yourself to a nothingness-death, to unending blackness. Ordinary is to sleep during your life and to sleep during your death.

Yet that is where he is stuck, currently. Ordinary. Confined by the walls of his life, created for him not by him. Family, classes. And it makes him feel claustrophobic but there's nothing he could do about it at the moment, being trapped between the layers of school and life and adolescence.

And loathe as he is to admit it, the fights with Shizuo were almost freeing. It wasn't that the fights made him feel better, or made him reevaluate his life, but it simply made him forget. Fighting someone like Shizuo requires all available concentration, should one not desire to be decapitated. In many ways that was a good thing, not many people could make him breathe so hard his lungs would sting, or wipe blood from his mouth, nose, arm and keep running.

Like playing war.

Shizuo was unpredictable and strong, which made Izaya both miffed and bit jealous. To so effortlessly be what he wanted, unique, and to hate it could not be forgiven. Not by him, anyway.

="=

They have lived in this place for so long they no longer can tell if there even is life existing outside of it.

If there was it didn't know what it was missing.

And what they are doing now is what they are always doing: fighting.

Shizuo, with a lamppost in hand, chasing Izaya into an alley.

Izaya is legs and arms, rapid movement, scaling a wall at the end of the alley because like hell is he dying here. Killed by this idiot animal.

And, for his part, Shizuo is right behind him, throwing the lamppost, javelin style, missing Izaya by only an inch or two, but still making him fall. Mission complete. The wall that was hit starts to crack and shutter but neither of them notice. They have other things to think about, like how nice this city could be if the other one wasn't there anymore.

As the bricks finally give way, Izaya has his flick blade firmly imbedded in Shizuo's arm, and Shizuo's knee to his stomach and they both would have died had it not been for Simon.

As usual.

And, like most other days, Simon looks vaguely annoyed, holding them both by their collars like little kids as the wall collapses in an explosion of dust and noise.

"Fighting's not good. Eat sushi" Simon says, unfazed by everything and anything.

Then he yanks them very much against their will into Russian Sushi amidst the whispering gawkers and distant sirens.

At this point in their lives, it was not unusual for them to eat together in sullen silence after the fights Simon breaks up, under the constant vigilance of Dennis. And though Izaya would still sometimes try and goad Shizuo into a fight or an argument, a well aimed sushi knife usually resolved any and all issues between the two of them. In many ways it was like a safe zone, the only time and place they could sit around each other without straightforwardly attempting murder.

And it was there, quite suddenly, that they kissed for the first time.

Or at least it was sudden for Shizuo.

For Izaya, it was just another trick, to simultaneously piss off Shizuo while still keeping himself free from flying cutlery.

It was just a peck, simple and quick, but it did the trick.

Of course he wasn't expecting to be punched quite so hard but the look on Shizuo's face was completely worth it, he decided.

Immediately after the kiss a beat red and gaping blond boy stormed out of Russian Sushi and Izaya had a good time finishing his fatty tuna in solitude.

Dennis merely shook his head in exasperation and wondered what the hell was wrong with those boys.

="=

It was three weeks until Izaya saw Shizuo again.

He wasn't at school or on the streets, anywhere. Or at least anywhere Izaya would be, since it certainly wasn't like he was looking. Not at all. Though he did wander every nook and cranny of Ikebukuro he simply told himself it was because he was bored. With no fights or injuries to take care of he did have a lot of free time and it wasn't like he'd actually do homework.

During that time, he had played with the idea that Shizuo was so mortified that he'd switched schools or moved somewhere or, better yet, killed himself. Though he knew none of that was actually true, a boy can still dream.

When Shizuo did finally show his face in school, he seemed distracted and more violent than usual which in turn made Izaya distracted and more violent than usual, and when they fought it was nothing short of explosive.

And the storm of fighting, even during classes, continues like this for some time until one day it's raining and they're on some rooftop and all of a sudden Shizuo is kissing Izaya instead of hitting him.

They're all wet and everything is slippery and it's like some tacky romance novel moment, which leads Izaya to say as much as soon as he can breathe because his lungs are being crushed between Shizuo and the door to the stairwell, and not for any other reason.

Certainly not because he is blushing and confused and verging on being at a loss for words for possibly the first time in his entire life.

Neither of them really understands what's going on, and before Izaya's brain catches up, his hands find themselves fisted in Shizuo's shirt. Holding tight, not letting go, safe and at home there. Like they'd be been there before, like this was normal, like anything about them was normal.

There is a pink tinge to both of their faces and their breaths make little white clouds form and dissipate and they just stare at each other. Not saying anything or moving. Not letting go, or holding tighter, though they want to do both and neither and everything at the same time.

Shizuo looks a bit sheepish and seems to be waiting for Izaya to push him off or knee him in the groin or something.

Anything.

But Izaya can't decide what to do. There is what he wants to do and what he should do and what he tells himself he doesn't want to do but knows he actually does. And in the end he gives in, just this one time, he tells himself, and kisses Shizuo back, full force, and wraps his arms around his neck.

And they are pushing back and forth and their kisses are like their fighting, violent and angry and needy and painful but they don't stop because they don't want to stop.

Not right now. Not for a long time.

Because "just this once" usually leads to "just this thirty-fifth time" and all of a sudden it's become one of those things that is hard to talk about with anyone and ever harder to understand, themselves.

And even though it's completely wrong, the two of them doing something besides fighting, at least to them, they ignore it.

They pretend like it never happened after it leaves them panting and cold and entirely too close. Like real lovers.

Like people who actually like each other.

* * *

I'm thinking about maybe doing a second part if people like this one.

The part about the wall: get it, geeeet it? It's a metaphor~~ /shot/

...Anyway, I hope you enjoy.

If you see any typeos or whathaveyou feel free to point them out...

Regular comments are loved too, of course~


	2. part two

**Title:** Dead City Radio (part two)  
**Fandom:** Durarara!  
**Characters: **Shizuo/Izaya ; mentions of Shinra & Kadota  
**Rating: **work safe(ish)**  
**  
This is becoming much, much longer than I ever intended. I had to cut this chapter in half, even, since it was bordering on dangerously long to write.

* * *

They still fight.

Every time they see each other it's fists and flick knives and pain and anger and sometimes it's kissing.

Just a little bit, but more and more each time.  
Things are slowly shifting, but they're fighting it every step of the way.

Becayse they know they're getting sucked into something, they just don't know what.  
Or, maybe they do know and refuse to admit it. Not to themselves, and certainly not to each other. That would be too much.

Trust. Faith. Fondness.

Anything besides marginal tolerance.

They've already become heretics to their own little cult of all consuming hate.

But they need the fights to make them feel something, like boys, scrappy and exhausted and exhilarated. Hearts and lungs and muscles and brains screaming and laughing and choking all at the same time. The pain means nothing to them, they are free to run and chase and cut and bruise without feeling bad, without real repercussions. To let all the things that make them mad or scared or even sad come out and air themselves and shatter against the pavement.

And be forgotten, maybe, for a minute.

They need the kissing and groping and weird sweaty gripping for the same reasons. Boys will be boys. They are nothing but children, still. Sixteen, seventeen, they know they don't know what they're doing, not really. Izaya has never put his heart so close to the surface; it's still buried but closer than it's ever been. He can't help it, that person never does what he expects and makes him feel things he barely understands.

Shizuo's never even been with someone willing to stick around for as long as Izaya. The women who like him are all militant and more than a little bit crazy and even then he's too afraid to hurt them.

He's not afraid to hurt Izaya.  
After all, you'd have to be nuts to want to be around someone as violent and impulsive as Shizuo, and lucky or unluckily for him, Izaya has a surplus of insanity. Enough to share.

And though these things need to exist they cannot coexist, not in the same place, anyway, they must be kept separate, compartmentalized. Safe.

If they're fighting, that's it. That's what they're doing. They're fighting all out. No emotions, just feelings.

Pain, anger, hate, well hidden fear.

And if Izaya lets Shizuo catch him and drag him into an alley or abandoned building, then that's what's happening. Lets himself be pushed up against a wall when there were a million chances to bolt so that Shizuo can rub his crotch against Izaya's thigh and so their tongues can be in each other's mouths in a painfully inexperienced, sloppy way. That's just how it is, and thinking about it would do nothing and so they don't.

And when they're done they don't talk, don't say goodbye, Izaya doesn't even send a parting jeer. They just leave, preferably out of different exits.

Like they'd never even met.

And they pretend to purge any inconsistency from their minds. To make like it never actually happened, because if they admitted it then it would have to end and they would both miss it, whatever it was.

They stay in this suspended animation until they realize what they're doing, or until they think the other one will stop. It's always, always a battle to see who can hurt the other the most. To bite with teeth and with words, a balance between wanting to give it their all and not wanting to appear like they care. Like they want. In their little game the one who says, "what are you doing?" first, who can divest them-self from that strangely safe place, to ruin everything for both of them, is the winner. To make the other one hurt or embarrassed or annoyed so they can get by unscathed, at least this time.

That is the condition of their relationship and it is eating at them and everything around them.

And, strangely, they don't seem to mind.

="=

Izaya still makes Shizuo's skin crawl.

There is something about the red-eyed boy that just isn't right. Shizuo can't really bring himself to think about it, though, he gets too mad and he's sick of hurting people, breaking things.

Because things are important. Shizuo knows this better than a lot of people.

He's made enough girls accidentally cry because he's destroyed something they cared about to know just how important things can be. It's not materialism, it's love. In a strange way, it's the purest form of it. To give without ever expecting or wanting anything back but what that thing does and has done and will do.

It's love simply for existing.

Though that seems like something Izaya would say.

And really, it always comes back to Izaya.  
How he can't think of one single thing that boy cares about, besides himself.

It's been years since they've met and months since everything changed and they know almost nothing about each other.

The only thing Izaya knows about Shizuo, really knows, is that he is a monster. No kind deed or careful touch can change how he was made. And it annoys him because monsters aren't human and so they cannot be controlled but in a way it gives him hope. That something out there, somewhere, can entertain him.

He's so bored of feeling bored.

What Shizuo knows is that Izaya is a flighty bastard, a million miles of false paths and poorly crafted masks that conceal the face all the same. Shizuo knows he hates the way Izaya makes him lose control but at the same time enjoys the brief moments where he can just let everything slip away even if he's going to feel badly about it afterwards. But the thing he knows for sure about Izaya is that he could be done with everything

just.  
like.  
that.

And Shizuo is right, because one day Izaya just disappears.

="=

He stops coming to school, showing himself around Ikebukuro, anywhere. Kadota and Shinra are baffled, too, but a little relieved. When Izaya's not around to start things they can make believe they're normal kids.  
Shizuo's not so lucky.

They're in their second year, and Izaya hasn't shown up for school in weeks.

Shizuo is not happy about this.  
He's not happy about anything, really, and people are starting to take notice.

"You didn't kill him, did you?" Shinra asks one day, out of the blue, before scampering away from Shizuo's arm reach, just in case.

But he doesn't have to worry because Shizuo just looks surprised. Not at the question but at what it implied. Ever since the flea had been gone he hadn't thought of killing him or hurting him or anything like that. Not once.

And maybe it was because he wasn't there so Shizuo could pretend Izaya wasn't such a giant asshole or maybe it was because the idea of Izaya being hurt or even dead made him feel like his stomach was filled with lead, or for some completely different reason but that was the day Shizuo decided to go find Izaya wherever he was.

Because that louse doesn't just get to fall off the face of the earth, doesn't get to make the rules and throw people away like they were nothing. Like they meant nothing, like they'd never shoved their hands in his pants inside some derelict building.

Shizuo didn't care enough to answer Shinra's question, he just visualized punching Izaya in the face and went from there.

* * *

Hey everyone!

Sorry about the wait, I've been really busy lately.

Though, unfortunately for me but fortunately for you, I ended up getting robbed the other day, so I've lost my passport and now I'm stuck in the US for waaaay longer than I'd intended, which means I have tons of free time at the moment.

TONS OF IT.

So expect part three pretty soon~

This chapter was going to be about 4,000 words long but I decided to post this part first so as to not drown you in my wordiness...


	3. part three

So I split this chapter too. And the next one as well, actually.  
Sorry about that, I just try to keep the word count for each chapter in this (and all my other stories, actually) around the same. Call it a very strange brand of OCD, I guess.

And, yeah, apologies if this doesn't make a ton of sense at the moment, things will get filled in in the next parts.

Hope you enjoy~

* * *

"I don't want this," he's saying.

His breaths make little white puffs in the cold air.  
Shizuo thinks it's fascinating, how those funny little clouds appear when he opens his mouth. They don't seem to come from anywhere, they just happen.

It's strange, how things just happen.

"I don't want anything," he's saying.

He looks sad.

There's probably a better way to describe it but it doesn't matter. There will never be a word for how the look on Izaya's face makes Shizuo feel. How the scraped knuckles and bloody ring around his nose and dirt on his sleeves makes him feel.

But he found him. He found Izaya.

Shizuo repeats this over and over in his head, because it's true and because it keeps the other, peskier thoughts from invading. Things he doesn't have time to think on, doesn't really ever want to think on.

I've got him, I've got him, I've got him.

"I just... I just..." he's repeating himself now. Babbling, but Shizuo doesn't mind because he's there. Really, really there.

The real him, or as close as Shizuo's ever seen.

And he knows what Izaya would say then, "Don't be so stupid, Shizu-chan, there's no such thing as a real face and a fake one, they're all the same, they're all one person. You know, a lie is still something someone says, it's still real because the lie, itself, exists."

But still, Shizuo likes this other person who is and is not Izaya. Likes that it exists at all, because he had his doubts. He still does, really.

This little kid hiding somewhere in Izaya's big coat seems so unreal. So not like the flea, but like a real person. Who feels things.

Izaya's still talking. It's what he does, it's what he falls back to when he's cornered, Shizuo knows, he can't really understand it, but he knows.

He's never been much for talking, himself though.

It's been a long night.

"I just don't know" he's saying.

="=

It took Shizuo one hour and thirty five minutes to find Izaya after he marched out of school earlier that day because if nothing else Shizuo is determined and Izaya has always been easy for him to find.

They are set up that way, to chase and be chased.

To hurt and be hurt and hurt again.

To bite and tear and claw at each other's flesh, hearts, minds, anywhere at all. Anywhere they could reach. Because that is hate and that is all they really know.

More and more they realize that what they're doing is eating at them, is burning away everything and making lines unclear, hard to look at. They don't know where they stand, not really, they don't know if they even stand at all and they don't ever want to talk about it, know about it, have it happen at all. It's just easier that way.

They have their pride and they have their hearts and to say what they want so desperately would be to sacrifice both. Surrender it to be stomped on over and over and over again.

Shizuo would have let it happen.

Wanted to do it, actually.

He thought about it constantly over the past month or so. Just grabbing Izaya by the arm, the collar, the hips, and telling him something. He's not ever sure what, he never was very good at thinking things through or talking or any of that stuff. That was Izaya's area of expertise, never his.

He just knew, knew he didn't like this. Didn't like how things where, how things were going to be. It had been fun for a while, a rush, a new experience but that was over and he was sick of feeling bad, of having to share. Sick of seeing other people's hickeys on Izaya. Seeing them peaking out from lower than Shizuo ever dared bring his lips. Sick of always fighting, always trying to ruin everything.

He wanted to tell Izaya that either he'd have all of him or none of him. Wanted to tell him all sorts of stupid little things, like how when Izaya's thinking about kissing him he always bites his lower lip and how that makes Shizuo feel warm. At home. Happy. Or how handsome he is when he's mad, because his eyes get all dark and he wrinkles his brow and it makes Shizuo want to hold him, really hold him, and kiss his forehead and tell him to calm down, don't worry, calm down.

But he never got to tell those things; Izaya was gone and he wasn't sure why.

And so Shizuo isn't sure wether intellectually he should have been as angry as he was when he found Izaya on his knees in that alley by Sunshine City but he's never been an intellectual person and it felt good, so good to take his foot and smash it into Izaya's startled face.

To see him look up from his new spot on the ground a few yards away, bringing one deathly white hand to his nose where the blood was pouring out. Red on white, dribbling past sullied lips and down his chin.

He smiles with blood staining red in the cracks of his teeth, a smirk, really. It's all fake, they both know but he has his role to play and no one ever accused Izaya of being a bad actor.

"Hey, Shizu-chan~" he says and tries to keep his voice from sounding too nasally, which is hard considering there was blood pouring out instead of air coming in.

Still, his voice is chipper, like a small child's, but his eyes are daggers, trying to gauge exactly what's going on, where the best way to escape would be, why Shizuo was there at all.

Shizuo can almost hear the gears turning in Izaya's head but he's too distracted. Izaya has never looked more beautiful than when he was hurt and so Shizuo grabs a garbage bin and hurls it at the other boy's retreating back.

It misses but it signals the start.

And the fat salary man in the tweed suit sticks his dick back in his pants and watches them run away, dumbfounded.

="=

They don't think, they just move.

The familiar call of Izaya's name, the way they climb walls and run into traffic, it's almost nostalgic.

They fall into place, Izaya running, Shizuo chasing after him.

But it's not familiar, it's not nostalgic, it's Shizuo wanting to rip the whole fucking street up and shove it down Izaya's throat. To make him hurt. To really, really make him hurt, so that he'll never forget.

And somewhere in the confines of Shizuo's mind he knows he can't really blame Izaya.  
It would be a terrible mistake to think that that boy belongs to anyone. Not his parents, not his employers, not his friends, and certainly not his enemies. But Shizuo is still angry and blind and hurt.

He doesn't really know why, but it hurts in a way he's never really felt before. Even though he knew from the start that Izaya wasn't his, it still claws at him because there is a big difference between what people want and what actually is there.

So he just runs and throws things and screams himself hoarse until it's dark out and he can't see Izaya anymore and he wants to just lay on the ground of the cold alleyway quite possibly forever.

But things don't work out that way because the particular backstreet Shizuo was laying in happened to coincide with the address of one of Simon's sushi deliveries.

Simon, who, when he saw Izaya running at full tilt with a face covered in blood figured it was only the proper thing to do to stop their childishness. After all, he liked Ikebukuro and he liked it safe.

And those two should really eat more sushi.

* * *

Humanity i love you because you  
are perpetually putting the secret of  
life in your pocket and forgetting  
it's there and sitting down

- ee cummings ; _Humanity i love you  
_

* * *

So this fic is almost over!

And then I can move on to a longer, possibly better plotted out story with this pairing.  
Yaaay.


	4. part four

Alright, part four. It's a bit choppy and was originally posted on LJ as part of part three (redundant sounding, I'm aware) but I felt it should be split. You know, Shizuo's POV in one part, Izaya's in the next one. It's all about my obsessive need to evenness and symmetry.

Ahahah, I was really excited to get to write something about Izaya's family in this chapter because even though I know he's said in the anime that he had a normal family aside for their naming habits, I still feel like something weird had to have happened there.

Anyway, happy reading~

* * *

Izaya doesn't see anything.

Doesn't see the cars or the pedestrians or cracks in the pavement and more than once he falls or crashes into something and tastes blood.

He doesn't know what he's doing, he's not in control and he hates it. He's never seen Shizuo so angry in his life. Nothing he'd done before had ever made that boy's eyes glow like they were possessed, like they really would murder him.

The thing that makes Shizuo so thrilling was how he always managed to surprise Izaya. No matter what, Shizuo would always do something unexpected.

And Izaya, as loathe as he would ever be to admit it, was a bit afraid. A bit happy too.

Because what he was expecting was that he and Shizuo would resume their little game like normal when he returned to school after the New Years break, having sufficiently proved that anything beyond occasional groping was way out of Izaya's emotional reach. By completely disappearing with no indication of anything, that should be clear even to someone with Shizuo's brain capabilities.

To show how little he cared, how little Shizuo meant to him. How in control he was, how much better he was.

Because he could feel it coming, feel the winds changing, as it were, with the way Shizuo's hands would linger just a bit too long on his thin hips or how Shizuo would watch him, really watch him, with a strange look in his eyes Izaya had never seen on anyone else before.

He needed to leave before things got hard.

Just, he was not expecting Shizuo to actually look for him. To get that angry over him. And it made him happy, inexplicably happy.

And try and he might to ignore it, there was a little pang in his heart at how Shizuo found him.

About how that might be the end of their... thing and it was his fault, about how he fucked up.

And the thing that surprised him was how much he'd miss it. How deep the sinking feeling in his stomach was and how there was nothing he could do about it.

Because Shizuo never does what he wants him to do and so he knows that whatever happens is not up to him, not really. There's no point in trying, it's over, completely finished and suddenly he wants to puke and he tells himself it's because of all the running but he knows he could have stopped a long time ago, Shizuo's gone.

He always was shit at lying to himself.

So he doesn't stop running. When he sees a wall he jumps it, he's getting better at Pakour and he's steadily getting his rhythm back, weaving around people, strollers, park benches.

He can't go home, not right now, since for the past two years he had made his family think he'd been going to cram school with the money he earned from his nonexistent early morning delivery route, though he is tempted just to see if they notice the blood on his face.

They probably wouldn't and he can't really blame them, though he does just the same.

He's been avoiding his family since he was little, roughly the time they stopped noticing him completely. His mother has since moved on, back to Russia where she was born and his father remarried; had two new shiny twin daughters who don't remind him of anyone he once loved and now would very much like to see fall off a building.

They don't even have five chairs at the dining table, just four, one for every real member of the family and not the awkward misfit ghost who sometimes comes home to do laundry or sleep.

Izaya's been crashing on people's couches for as long as he could remember, usually girls who have crushes on him, and other times old men's hotel rooms or the occasional park bench.

It pays to be suave, after all, and good looking, too, and he can keep up this lifestyle as long as he has to, since he likes talking, likes sneaking into the seedy gay bars in Kabukichou, likes getting girls to do everything he asks them to do, no matter what.

Because it's easy and he's good at it and it benefits him.

At least most of the time.

="=

Izaya keeps running until he finds a public restroom in some park in Ikebukuro. There are public baths around but he chooses not to go to them, too many people, too much everything.

And, the thing is, he knows this bathroom, knows the creepy old men who cruise there, knows where his parent's home is from where he is standing. He remembered watching people go in and out of it as a child when he played in that park, being more interested in what they were doing than lumpy piles of sand and dribbling infants.

When he sees someone scrawled a dick on the mirror with a marker he smiles until his eyes focus on his face.

The blood has caked down his chin and his eyes have these dark brown rings around them. He looks terrible, feels terrible, his hair is greasy from the sweat of running and sticks to his face in clumps. He is overcome with the urge to puke again, that's always been a problem with him, stress vomiting, and eventually he succumbs to it, throwing up into one of the sinks.

Then he quietly, methodically washes all the blood off his face with the cold water from the taps.

He looks better now, completely colorless except for his eyes, even his lips are white.

And he can't help but wonder what Shizuo's doing now, what will happen when, and it really is a question of when; not if, Shizuo finds him. What can he say, what can he say.

His mind is blank, he has no words, he cannot tell the truth, would rather be punched over and over and over again than tell Shizuo anything, answer any of his questions and he thinks maybe Shizuo would rather hurt him than listen to his answers, anyhow.

For once he really doesn't know what to do and he hates it.

* * *

my Uncle Sol  
had a skunk farm but  
the skunks caught cold and  
died and so  
my Uncle Sol imitated the  
sunks in a subtle manner

or by drowning himself in the watertank

ee cummings _nobody loses all the time_

* * *

So, I mean, I know you might have been thinking that Izaya's departure would be more suspenseful or something but really I did it for the symmetry. Like, in the first chapter Shizuo up and disappears when the relationship initially changes because he doesn't really know what to think and so when the relationship changes again, or when Izaya senses it's about the change again he bolts because that, I think, would be really scary for him.

Y'know, to trust someone, even a little bit with a part of him.

Or, I could be completely daft, that's pretty likely too.

Oh hey, just out of curiosity, how old do you think I am?


End file.
